Building a World Is Hard Work
Building something from nothing is hard work.
Whether it's tilling land, raising children, or running a business — starting with absolutely nothing and shaping something with your own two hands is grueling, exhausting labor.
And the bigger the undertaking, the more the hardship grows in proportion to its size. It's almost always the case.
Take farming, for instance. Cultivating a little weekend garden plot versus reclaiming an entire wilderness from scratch — I hardly need to ask which one is harder.
Which is why, in my opinion, whenever you set out to build something monumental from the ground up, you ought to match the scale of the work with plenty of rest and careful attention to your steadily fraying sanity.
So why am I suddenly rambling on about this, you ask?
"Ugh, goddammit..."
If you want a reason, I can give you one: right now, I'm in the middle of building something so absurdly, colossally huge that all of the above applies in spades.
By the simplest of measurements, its size was roughly twice that of Earth.
When I first arrived here, the only thing that existed was an endless flat expanse — nothing but bare horizon in every direction.
And my final assignment was to shape this entire planet into something complete, down to the last detail.
"Think I could call it a day and rest a little?"
"Spare me the nonsense and get back to work. You've only filled seventy percent of today's quota."
"You heartless, bloodless witch..."
And so my labor continued — four thousand years and counting, all the way to this very day.